Puppy Party Pooper

Parent fail. In the big scheme of things I did not commit a big, giant, honking parent fail but it feels like one. I hate failing anybody, let alone my daughter.

black-maltipoo-1
A black Maltipoo

My pre-teen daughter had her heart set on a black Maltipoo puppy and we found one in Michigan, about three hours from us. She wants to name the puppy Oreo, after her favorite cookie. But being new to the Maltipoo scene, and not exactly a natural born animal person, I have been taking my time learning about breeders and what questions to ask. I used to be really scared of dogs when I was little, and we obviously didn’t have one when I was growing up. My parents were not dog people, so it all still feels like foreign territory for me even though I married my husband but fell even harder for his adorable, three-year-old basset hound who lived to be fourteen.

Couple all the above with the fact that one of my day jobs is to be a risk manager, and the primary occupational hazard of that line of work is to think of the all the things that can go wrong. Needless to say I have been extra cautious.

I’ve learned you need to move fast in the Maltipoo market. Pups get scooped up fast. We were planning to make the trip to Michigan this weekend to see the pup in person and assuming we fell in love with her on the spot, we’d get her. I don’t know that I was 100% sold on the idea of black puppy, as I think the apricot and creme ones are very cute too, but the idea was growing on me because all three kids have very dark hair, almost black. She wanted a black puppy to look her and for it to be a girl so it would even out the boy/girl dynamic in the house.

Last night I wrote to the breeder asking for her address so we could plan the trip and agree upon a time. She wrote me back to say that her last black pup had been purchased, the runt of the litter who had a curly coat and a little patch of white on her chest that made her a perfect Oreo. I could have put a deposit down on her, but something told me to wait.

Parent fail.

I had to tell my daughter first thing this morning. It did not go well. You see, her birthday is next week and she was certain that she and this puppy were destined to be together.

I’m sick to my stomach. Now I feel like I made a mistake. Breeders tell me that nobody wants a black Maltipoo because you can’t see their facial expressions, and then sometimes the black totally fades away to little-old-lady gray. In other words, the black ones are hard to come by because no one intentionally breeds for them, and as far as I can tell there are only a couple available right now in the entire US. And I just gave up the opportunity to choose between three of them relatively close to us.

I ruined my daughter’s birthday, or so it feels. This is the perfect time for us to get a pup because life is a little quiet right now, unlike the rest of the year, but it certainly looks like that window of opportunity closed.

I know there will be other puppies, and the right one is out there, waiting for us, but right now I’m drinking a big, cold cup of “you suck”.

Call me the puppy party pooper. I’ve earned it.

 

 

The First Post of the Year!

danielle-macinnes-222441-unsplashI’ve been blogging a little over a year now, but 2019 makes for the third calendar year I’ve been writing and throwing it all out there for everyone to see. It wasn’t lost on me this go around that the first post of the year is kind of a big deal, ya know? It has the ability to set the tone for the year, you see.

It’s like that scene with Santa at the North Pole in The Polar Express, when he presents the first gift of Christmas.

No pressure or anything. It’s just, you wonder if you should be able to hear the elves cheering at the North Pole here in Ohio when you hit the “publish” button.

Is it a wee bit ironic that this particular blog post is not the first post of the year? I digress….

It’s January 11 and our Christmas decorations are still up. Don’t judge! I suppose I could be removing Christmas ornaments right this very moment but I am choosing instead to write. Priorities, priorities… There is so much to catch you guys up on!

The weeks leading up to Christmas are a big blur and a big ball of stress but somehow I wake up on Christmas Day and everything is right with the world. Sure, we didn’t get to see everyone we wanted to this year, but the day was fun and relaxed.

One of my favorite weeks of the year is that time between Christmas and New Year’s Day.  Like that line from the Chicago song, does anybody really know what time it is? Does anybody really care? It doesn’t matter if I’m working or not, it’s a pretty relaxed week and quiet at work if I do, and there is simply no pressure to do anything if you don’t want to. Talk about blessed.

I wish people weren’t in such a hurry to rip down their decorations that week. I think we should all just hit the snooze button on life and take a lesson from the Danes and embrace hygge (pronounced “hue-gah”).

Hygge is kinda hard to explain, so I’m told. It’s a state of being. I suppose you can describe it by saying it’s the cozy feeling of contentment that overcomes you when you just hang out at home in PJs and fuzzy slippers, feed the fireplace, drink hot cocoa, snuggle, and be happy. I even got a book about hygge this Christmas. Can’t wait to crack it open this winter and enjoy. Hygge is my favorite state of being. I inherently knew what hygge was before I knew there was a word for it.

Perhaps if I got a tattoo, it should say “hygge me” inside of a heart. I might be onto something there…


We sent our Christmas cards to family and friends but this year, I took the unprecedented step of writing a letter to go along with it. Let that sink in for a moment: I love to write but I never did that before. Isn’t that funny?

It was pretty well received. A few people contacted me to say they enjoyed it. What they didn’t know is that I wrote it off the top of my head and the original version was six – count them, SIX – pages long! It hit me that 1) no one wants to read six pages about the five of us, and 2) that gets a little costly for the number of cards we mail, so I was forced to play editor and whittle it down to just two pages.

Do you know how hard that is? I mean, I had YEARS worth of news to catch people up on, people I don’t get to see very often if at all.


I’ve had a lot of thoughts and content bubbling up inside for the last few weeks but I just couldn’t find the time to get it written down. Instead, I’ve been on the prowl for a puppy.

Yes, a puppy. Our oldest seems to be allergic to big dogs, so this makes the effort a little challenging. We would love to welcome a pet into our lives but we’re all allergic to cats. It’s been over five years since our angel of a basset hound, Monk, passed away. I’ve been researching breeds and we think we are ready to move forward with a Maltipoo, a low-shedding, hypo-allergenic cross between a poodle and Maltese. Part of me is a little anxious about having to train a puppy but “designer dog” rescues are hard to come by although not impossible. We may have found a rescue, actually. We need to do more research on that but at least we’re aware of one.

<<< Isn’t this little guy cute? Be still my heart. I want to hygge him.

But these last three or four weeks? I’m exhausted. It occurred to me today that I am “puppy pregnant”, which is not to say I’m actually pregnant. Oh, no…. Mama Louie’s uterus is closed for business, shall we say! 😳

But seriously, I’m scanning puppy sites in my every spare moments. I’m scrolling through endless dog names. I notice everyone who already has a dog. I’m wondering if the dog we get will look like my husband and the kids (dark-haired) or more like me (returning to the blond of my toddler years)? I’m starting to buy things to nest. The kids can not wait to add to the family. Our youngest is looking forward to no longer being the youngest. 🤣

Did I mention I’m tired, oh so very tired? This past Monday wasn’t even my first day back at work but midway through an afternoon meeting I wanted to grab a pillow, curl up in a ball, and nap.

Will it be a boy or a girl? Will it be a colicky baby or sweet? Will it come “late” or “early”? We’re not even sure when we’re “due”.

Puppy pregnant is a real thing.

I need a nap.

Photo by Danielle MacInnes on Unsplash